Wildcard
by QuasiOuster
Summary: AU season 2. Daryl finds himself in a bad spot while out searching for Sophia and comes upon a mysterious stranger. Will she change what we know of events to come?
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: I don't own any part of The Walking Dead franchise and don't intend any profit or infringement.**_

 _ **I got to tinkering with this today after working on my pending stories and got a little carried away. I started this a couple years ago based on the notion that Michonne shows up at the beginning of season 2. I wondered how that would change things in that storyline and what effect it would have later on. It's been an interesting exercise. It's kind of a trip having to revisit the season 2 version of these characters being on season 6. (Jacqi Kennedy-season 2 Daryl is indeed a treat.)**_

 _ **This is multi chapter and pretty much done so I'll post as I clean it up and work on my other updates. All feedback is welcome and helpful so drop a word if it seems worth editing and sharing. Thanks so much for reading!**_

* * *

 **Chapter One**

All kinds of thoughts passed through Daryl's mind as he climbed the jagged wall of the ridge. What if he fell again? How was he going to find Sophia if he got himself killed? Did the image of Merle mean he was losing his mind out here?

He curved his hand into a groove right above his head and pulled himself up. The vegetation under his fingers gave a bit and he felt himself slipping before getting a firmer handle on the hard earth beneath his fingers. Energy was rapidly leaving his body and it was unclear how much longer he could go on like this. He chanced a brief glance up, seeing that he still had about a third of the way to go. Sighing, he rested his head against the rock face and steadied himself to push forward.

Crazy or not, tired or no, he hadn't survived this long in life being a punkass weakling who gave up when things got hard. Even before the walkers invaded, he was a tough sum'bitch, maybe not as tough as Merle but he wasn't no pansy. He didn't need anybody to get him out of a tight spot, not even his older brother. He'd been taking care of himself since he was in single digits and damned if he'd get his ass kicked by the vary same kind of woods he'd cut his teeth on growing up. He pulled himself up another half body length and leaned into the ravine to catch his breath.

The extra weight on his right side must have caused too much pressure on the crevice he'd worked his foot into because it began to crumble and his footing slid back down the rock face. Daryl swore and braced himself even harder against the leverage he did have. If he was going down again, this ravine was going to have to practically push him off; he couldn't afford another attempt.

The rocks and leaves kept tumbling underneath him and soon the strain on his left side started compromising his grip as well. It wasn't looking good but Daryl held on, willing himself to find his footing as the soles of his boots scraped against the slick, rocky surface.

As if he needed another distraction, something hard and in motion smacked him across his face and he almost let go of this hold to bat it away instinctively. Knowing better than that, he steeled himself against whatever critter or debris had landed on him; he had bigger problems right now. The object hit him again on the side of the head and then moved down to his shoulder and swung away. From the corner of his eye, he thought it was a snake or some displaced vine. Turning his head, his full attention revealed that it was neither.

It was a dangling rope. A tip of his head upward revealed nothing of its owner except a pair of dusty boots, a gloved hand and figure shrouded in a protective cape.

Daryl hesitated for a moment. He didn't know who the hell this person was and it wasn't in his nature to accept help from just anyone. But then his senses returned to him: he was hanging from the side of a steep ravine about to plunge to its depths for a second time. Beggars couldn't be choosey. So he grabbed the damn rope. He'd deal with the consequences when he wasn't about to fall hard and break his ass.

Slowly he inched his way up to meet his mysterious savior, learning nothing new about who it was as more and more of the figure appeared above him. With each pull up, they took a pull back. What Daryl could confirm was that it looked like just one person and he wasn't very big, even if he was impressively strong for his size. The odds were good that he could overpower him if it came to that, rescue be damned. He didn't have time for foolishness with him still burning up sunlight and Sophia out there somewhere.

Finally, he reached the edge and dropped the rope to pull himself up from the ledge. The rope receded quickly and the figure took several silent steps backward, raising an arm to draw a weapon.

Daryl brushed the dirt off his pants and arms checking for injuries as he went. When he raised his head there's a sword pointing at him by the figure still mostly covered to the waist and a hood obscuring his face.

No, make that her. He hadn't been around the block much but he knew enough to recognize the shape of a woman when he saw it.

Raising his arm to reach for his crossbow, Daryl thought better of that and simply held his arms out defensively. Woman or not, she held that sword like she knew how to use it.

A sound diverted his attention, the clanging of metal against itself.

"Holy shit," Daryl muttered putting even more distance between himself and the woman with her weapon trained on him.

Several feet away, stood two walkers, or what was left of them. They were missing the lower parts of their faces. The arms were gone yet they both had bags strapped to them like pack mules. They were chained at the neck, the tether wrapped around the tree they were pulling against, more agitated now that he'd made such a ruckus scooting away. When he turned back to the woman, she had removed her hood to reveal herself. If the sword hadn't been warning enough, the glare in her eye would have told him she was not someone to fuck with.

Now that he wasn't worried about falling to his death, he picked up more details on her, the brown arms peeking out from her cloak, the golden-tinged dreadlocks that swung off of her shoulders. The rope she'd used to pull him up was coiled and hanging from her hip like some kind of crazy, Samurai Wonder Woman. From what he could see of her, she was muscular and trim, her tight clothes revealing a figure he'd probably do a double take on in old times. Her body language screamed that she was on her guard.

But Daryl was also in no mood for a stalemate. His head was pounding, his leg and side were pretty fucked up and he still needed to find his way around this crazy, sword-wielding woman and back to the others.

"What? You gon' save me just to cut me up with that damn sword? Aint got nothin' worth stealin' so you might as well back the fuck off."

He had expected her to put up a fuss but she looked him up and down, probably assessing his weaponry and injuries, and then dropped her sword. She didn't re-sheath it though, not that he expected her to. Instead she let it hang at her side, a reminder of how quickly she could strike if need be.

She cocked her head and smirked. No, he hadn't expected that reaction at all.

"It's not a sword, it's a katana." Her voice was low, husky, maybe a little hoarse from lack of use. Was she all alone out here like a damn fool; her and those walker buddies that obviously belonged her?

They stared at each other, assessing, strategizing and filing away bits of information to get them through the next few minutes. Either they were going to go their separate ways or tear each other to shreds, and honestly, Daryl was eager to get the second option off the table.

"Those things belong to you," Daryl asked pointing towards the walker mules, straining against their restraints.

The woman raised an eyebrow at him. "You're welcome by the way." She took several more steps back until she was at the tree with the bound walkers. They didn't seem to react much to her, even when she circled behind them to access her baggage.

Maybe he was still hallucinating because this shit was just weird.

"Uh, thanks," he responded wondering what she was doing. He didn't have long to ponder before she walked back towards him with a small pouch in her hand and a container, presumably of water.

"Are you hurt? I've got some first-aid stuff. No offense but you look like shit." She pointed at his side that was still oozing blood. He was covered in a sickly combination of mud, grime, and guts and his clothes were ripped to shreds. "That bump on your head is no joke either." Her eyes wandered downward. "Might explain your choice in accessories, though." He'd forgotten about his souvenir ear necklace courtesy of the neighborhood walkers association.

Rather than dwell on the last hour of his life, Daryl's eyes dropped to the pouch she held; he saw gauze and a few tubes of something peeking out of the bag. Damn, this woman was prepared.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful or nothin' but what the hell are you doin' out here?"

She frowned. "What the hell are _you_ doing out here?" She threw the pouch at him and retreated a comfortable distance away. Daryl dropped to the ground to grab it and started rifling through the contents. He winced at the pain the movement caused. He'd definitely messed up his leg good and his side was starting to throb where he'd pulled the arrow through.

"Lookin' for a little girl," he replied, poking around until he found a large gauze patch and some tape. "She got separated from me and my people and we think she's out here somewhere hiding."

When he looked up, she was kneeling down to roll the water bottle towards him. She tensed after the container left her grasp. "You got a little girl lost out here?"

"Yeah, why? You seen somethin'?"

She looked around as if a trail would pop up out of nowhere. He glanced up at her wondering if she'd come across something he'd missed.

Her gaze met his. "No." There was something in her expression that held his attention. It was difficult to put his finger on it.

By this time, he'd untied his shirt from around his waist and applied some ointment to the gauze. He tore off some tape with his teeth and pressed both to his sides until he'd effectively stopped up the wound. For now.

"What's with the chain gang over there?" he asked using the water and a strip of gauze to wash off his head wound.

Her movements were minimal as she kept on her guard while he tended to his wounds. She didn't offer to help but she did check out his patching like she was a teacher looking over his work. They were silent for a long time as he wiped mud from his face and eyes and Daryl figured she wasn't the sharing type after all.

"They keep my hidden from the dead; their scent that is. No jaw so they can't eat me or bite me. No arms so they can't grab me. And they're even nice enough to carry my gear. Who said chivalry was dead," she offered with a steely grin. "Terrible conversationalists, but who needs that anymore."

Daryl found it rather terrifying and damned impressive. If she'd been alone all this time, well, hell, that was something. He went out on a limb.

"Got a group a few miles off. You help me get back there, least I could do is offer you a meal and some better company."

She stiffened. "Who says I need either." This woman was hard. It annoyed him. Intrigued him too if he was being honest.

But she had helped his sorry ass and while she was dangerous, she wasn't exactly a threat. She just struck him as someone who'd been on her own for a while. Hell, that could have easily been him, He recognized the resourcefulness of her survival.

Daryl shrugged. "Aint nobody said it, just offerin'." He leaned over carefully to pick up his crossbow and while she watched his movements, she made no indication of stopping him.

Despite their exchange, she now scrutinized him through narrowed eyes. He didn't blame her. You really couldn't trust anyone these days and, as far as she knew, he could be leading her into some kind of ambush.

"I'll make sure you get back to your group and then take my leave. But I'll keep my eye out for your girl and circle back to you if I find anything."

Daryl shrugged again. "Suit yourself. And she's not my kid. She belongs to a woman in our group. She's the last of her family and I wanna get her back for her."

The woman's eyes softened and she nodded. "That's real nice." She turned away to unhook her two walkers, her words sounding sincere but cold. Sad. Daryl briefly wondered at what this woman had left behind if it had her wandering this mad world by herself.

He looked up at the sky and the terrain surrounding them and mentally configured the quickest way back to the Greene's farm. "This way," he gestured, waiting until she re-sheathed her sword. No her "katana", he thought rolling his eyes.

She handed him a long, thick branch to use as a walking stick, which he gratefully accepted. "You gotta name?" she asked.

Daryl tested out his gait and figured it wouldn't get any easier so they may as well get going. He walked a few paces and heard the clink of the chains as her walkers shuffled along behind her.

"Daryl. Daryl Dixon," he called over his shoulder. When she didn't respond in kind, he paused and turned back to her as much as his wounded side allowed, expectation clear.

She flashed him that enigmatic grin of hers. "Michonne."

Michonne. It wasn't a name he'd ever heard before. Maybe it was a black thing, not that he thought much of that one way or another anymore. He wasn't Merle or his old man. She'd just helped him out of a tight spot so it was cool between them, on his part anyway.

They walked for a while, listening for walkers. When they reached a cluster of overgrown brush, she halted them and tied off her two friends before disappearing into the greenery around them. When she returned, she was leading a horse. His horse, or at least the one he'd borrowed that morning.

"Well, I'll be damned. Found my horse too. You're like a goddamn fairy godmother or something." She flashed him a small grin but said nothing. She passed him the lead, wrapping it around his arm so he didn't have to grip it too hard. When she went back for the two walkers, she made sure to give a lot of slack to the chains so as not to startle the already skittish horse.

While they waked, he was too wrecked to check for signs of Sophia but he had caught Michonne veering every now and again to check for signs of activity. The only thing they'd encountered was his trail from earlier.

"Your buddies behind you; your pets or whatever? They got names?" His head was pounding and the pain across his body was catching up to him. He needed some sort of distraction and although neither of them seemed like the chatty types, it was the best option for him at this point.

He heard her sigh. "They had names. Not anymore." Fair enough.

As the sun retreated they kept their pace, Daryl pointing out some areas that they hadn't gotten to in their search and Michonne silently following and nodding when appropriate. She spoke only to ask for the child's description and how she got to be missing. Even though his energy was waning she didn't offer to assist. On the one hand, he appreciated her respecting his personal space. On the other hand, he wouldn't mind a shoulder to lean on.

Before long, a clearing could be seen in the distance. The farm. He could see their camp across the field and a bit of activity off of the house. They stopped at the edge of the treeline.

"Well, there it is." She stepped up to stand beside him. "You sure you don't wanna stop by? It's almost dark and all. Where you gon' go?"

Michonne assessed the area, presumably analyzing her options. As they stood there, Daryl saw people running towards them, weapons gleaming off the setting sun. "You better decide quick," he added with a smirk. She'd raised her arm to reach for her katana but she didn't pull it out.

"Is it safe here?" she asked softly.

Daryl did laugh at that. "Safe as anywhere these days. Come on." He hobbled towards the group leaving Michonne to follow as they met the three armed men.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Michonne barely had time to react before the confusion and yelling took over. The armed men had held off attacking, figuring she and Daryl weren't walkers. After all, one of them was leading a horse and they were strolling, hobbling, and talking like they had a pulse.

' _I told you this was a bad idea.'_

"Not now!" Michonne said under her breath. She did not have time to indulge her dead boyfriend's judgment at the moment.

The men were on their guard, immediately pointing their weapons at her—the new person in the equation and what she'd admit were her strange companions.

' _Did you think you could just waltz into these people's lives and not have there be trouble? I know you're not that dumb. Or that soft.'_

"I said shut up!"

Daryl turned at hearing her angry voice, although he must not have caught the actual words. He had his hands full trying to calm his people down and he was fading fast. Her safety from this mini-mob was on him now and this fool was going to pass out before he could explain that she saved his ass out there.

Then the shot rang out and true chaos erupted.

Michonne dropped on instinct as she saw one of her pets, as Daryl called them, go down. Judging by the way the corpse groaned and writhed, it hadn't been a clean head-shot. The horse keened and pulled at the reins that Daryl still held loosely around his hand. She reached over to take them from him so he didn't have to fight the skittish beast as well as the people closing in around them.

There was more arguing, mostly Daryl yelling at them to stop shooting at Michonne and trying to explain that she'd helped him and brought him back. She had to give him props for his tenacity. If she got out of this alive.

Mike was right, she should have known better than to get tangled up with people. The rule was to keep her distance, keep contact to a minimum and go it alone.

' _That's right. You should listen to me more.'_

She didn't want to listen to him at all, ever. She'd tried unsuccessfully to stop talking to him too and failed at both tasks. Out here, who else did she have?

' _No one, Michonne. Let's just leave.'_

It was a fair suggestion. She couldn't conjure up what madness had made her agree to come with this stranger. His sincere offer and sad state seemed an inadequate excuse at the moment.

Daryl swayed to his knees as they were joined by two more people, a woman and an older man, both holding guns. There were more people running in the distance. After one last plea, Daryl dropped to his side, down for the count. The yelling continued as they hovered over him and waved their guns in her direction pointed between her and the remaining standing chained corpse.

"Hey," Michonne yelled above the fray. They all turned in unison at the sound of her voice. Two of the men had leaned down to pick up Daryl's battered body while the other people kept their weapons aimed at her.

"I'll be on my way." She handed off the horse to the person closest to her, a black guy with a bat who didn't appear to appreciate the transfer. "You need to get him checked out." Hands up to show an absence of weapons, she turned to see about her bodyguards. The one still standing was shuffling in his shackles while the one on the ground looked like the most gruesome of turtle impressions, tossing against the pack he'd fallen onto.

"What's up with those walkers?" asked the man holding onto the horse. "You some kind of weirdo?"

' _Walkers? That's a weak ass name for dead bodies coming back to life and trying to kill you. You could come up with something so much better. You've always had a way with words, baby.'_

Michonne ignored both of them.

Whoever shot her "walker" had only grazed the side of his head, enough to rile him up but he'd keep on going like they always do. Carefully avoiding his mouth area, she hauled him to his feet and untangled the chain that had wrapped around his body. She noticed that the men had carried Daryl halfway through the property where they were met by a group of people who ushered them towards the house. Pulling on the chains, she turned around towards the way she'd come. There had been an incline a mile or so back that would do if she could make it before dark.

' _Of course you'll make it. That's what you always do, Michonne.'_

"No." She eyed the older, bearded man as he stepped forward, looking at the two undead men. "No arms to scratch or grab and no jaw to bite." He turned to Michonne who had used his distraction to adjust her packs and ensure they were secure. "They're protection aren't they?"

Michonne didn't sense any animosity from the man, only cautious curiosity. He took her silence as assent.

"Tell Daryl to watch his step next time." She hoisted her katana along her back and pulled again at the chains she carried, leading her group in the opposite direction.

"Wait," the woman called after her. Michonne slowed but didn't face them. "Daryl told you about us?" Turning only her head to the side, she gave a short nod. She sighed and looked back towards the rest of the property. A few more people were standing in the distance, no doubt wondering what the hell was going on. "He's the surliest bastard of us all so if he extended an invitation then we should honor it." She glanced at the other two men who seemed to agree and lowered their weapons.

' _Oh no, don't let them get under your skin, girl.'_

Michonne then turned to face them, giving nothing away in her expression. "I don't want any trouble."

"Neither do we," the older man said. "I'm Dale. This is Andrea and over there is T-Dog." Michonne looked at the latter with an "are you serious?" expression. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, which elicited the smallest of smiles from her.

"At least stay for dinner and set up camp overnight. It's too late to try and find a place out there," the woman—Andrea—offered, pointing towards the wooded area.

' _She doesn't know you. We'll make do. You can't trust these people!'_

"Shut. Up," she growled again softly, her back still turned.

They seemed harmless enough despite the bumpy start. No one said anything about trusting anyone—a non-aggression treaty would do. She nodded.

The group backed away to retrace their steps across the property. Michonne yanked once more at the chains and the two walkers ambled after her.

Dale peeked over his shoulder at the distance she kept between herself and the others. "You might want to park your friends a ways from where we camped. We're not used to being so close to them and I don't think the others would feel comfortable with them lurking about, even as trained as you've got 'em."

She could see how they'd think them trained. Hell, she thought of them that way sometimes too. But it was more like they were docile, slowed.

"I'll set myself up a ways from you. I'm not bothered by that."

And that's what she did. She saw where Daryl's people had their tents and camp set up and she kept her distance. She didn't know what the story was since there was a whole other group of people who lived inside the house. It didn't seem like the smartest move to have all these folks out in the open but they were free to be as careless as they liked and she'd be on her way the next day.

A few steps closer to the sea and a few steps farther from the pull of the ghosts that followed her.

As she busied herself with her camp, she saw that most people were in the house dealing with some big dinner they had planned. It was amazing to Michonne that there were still people out there going along as if the world hadn't changed around them.

' _Stupid, Michonne. Just plain dumb. Why are you indulging these fools? We'll be fine, just us and the world._

"Nothing about us is fine. You can't help me anymore, Mike. You don't know me."

' _Oh, you wish. It's not that easy to shake me. But go ahead and play house with these idiots, and you'll see what better company I am. We've always been so good together as a team.'_

"Yeah, until we weren't." Her anger flared as if she'd just now stumbled on their overrun camp, seen him and Terry on the ground…and everything that came after that. "Just go away."

For once, he listened to her.

With the sun not yet fully retreated, Michonne took the opportunity to refill her water containers and check the rest of her supplies while people came and went around her. She'd briefly met two other women, Lori and Carol, who looked at her warily as she used their fire to sterilize her water; they hightailed it back to the house pretty quick which was fine with her. She assumed one of the women was the one with the missing daughter but she didn't ask. They both looked like hell so it was hard to tell.

A younger man, a kid really, came along and chatted with T-Dog and Dale. He introduced himself as Glenn and seemed the friendliest of the bunch, yet still on his guard. And there was a young boy too. Carl. He'd shyly asked about her walkers. It was almost too much, seeing him and socializing with these people as if it were a Sunday social after church. Yet she didn't have the heart not to entertain the boy's curiosity. Dale must have been tasked to keep an eye on him since he hovered nearby. He listened to their conversation more out of interest than suspicion.

These were probably good people; wearied, tested but still doing their best to hold it together.

' _If you say so,'_

Mike's voice chastised her, but it was a faint, weak sound in the back of her mind.

After a while, one of the men who'd led Daryl away emerged from the house. He called over to their group and strode towards them with a determined stride. Michonne narrowed her eyes and tried to keep from reaching for her katana. She didn't get a good vibe from him, all that pent up aggression and swagger in his countenance. Back in the old world, she'd have found it incredibly attractive. Too risky these days, though.

A snicker sounded in her ear.

' _Yeah, that's about right. Just like that knucklehead ex-boyfriend of yours. I definitely consider myself a step up.'_

"Don't start," Michonne said under her breath.

Dale narrowed his eyes and she froze. "You're right to be careful around that one. Stay sharp." She didn't respond but stood up straighter as he stopped in front of their small group.

"Hey," the new guy drawled, pointing towards her. "Daryl's asking for you. Says you may have some info on where to find Sophia." Michonne paused a few beats, wary; they stared each other down. Cutting her eyes briefly to Dale, she followed after him with caution.

"And don't even try to start nothing. We'll kill you in a blink if we see cause."

"Same here," Michonne said dryly. Shane brought his hand to his hip where his gun sat. She didn't flinch, just kept walking at his side not taking her attention off him.

"Now there's no call for all that, Shane. She's fine," Dale called out to them.

This Shane person didn't look convinced. As they walked towards the house, he continued. "I don't know what Daryl promised you but you best take your meal and be about your way. The last thing we need around here is more complications."

Michonne didn't even bother explaining herself. He was clearly of one mind on the issue and it wasn't particularly different than her thoughts on it except for in tone. And since she didn't know him or much care about his opinion on anything, it wasn't worth the wasted breath.

' _Oh yeah. Total knucklehead and definitely your old type. Good thing you've moved on from hooking up with assholes.'_

Michone pressed her lips together to stave off a sharp response.

Instead, she took in her surroundings. Her stopover looked like a functioning farm with horses, obviously, but also livestock and chickens. She saw some signs of crops growing and they'd passed at least one well on the way to the makeshift camp. Walking into the house, it looked homey and comfortable. She eyed a group of women in the kitchen scurrying around for whatever special meal they were cooking up. They passed a couple of formal rooms before hitting a bedroom with a surly looking redneck leaning over a map while a white-haired man stitched him up. The other younger man from the first confrontation was with him.

Michonne hovered at the door, on her guard and unwilling to volunteer anything to the hostile crowd. Daryl, however, seemed to be on the mend which she was gratified to see. She hated to think that she'd wasted her time pulling him off that ridge.

The unnamed younger man gestured her over. He wasn't exactly friendly, but he was a lot less aggressive than his buddy standing by the window giving her the eye.

' _Great, we got another cowboy over here. You really know how to get yourself into some stuff, baby. You should have listened to me from jump. But you never listen when you get it in your head to play the hero. Or the provider.'_

"I can hear you just fine," Michonne responded to both men's prompting.

There was no way she was going to get cornered in a roomful of men, even if one of them was laid out injured and one looked old enough to take with one arm tied behind her back. Then she decided not to count him just because he was old and occupied, especially when he started grumbling about antibiotics and then left the room in a huff. She didn't know if that was his regular demeanor or if he was just as unhappy with her being here as he was them.

The unnamed man frowned and stood up straight with his hands on his hips. Lucky for the both of them, Daryl intervened.

"Rick, this is Michonne." He shifted his attention to her. "Michone this is Rick. He aint gon' mess with you. Right?" He looked up at the man who scrutinized her for a few moments and then shook his head. "Now that one," he added pointing at Shane. "Aint no tellin' with him."

Michonne glared at Shane and then ignored him. Like she hadn't figured that out already.

"I don't know where your girl is." It was unclear what Daryl had told these people but she needed to get that out of the way from the top.

"We just want to know what direction you came from and if you saw anything. Maybe we can eliminate some areas," Rick explained, his Georgia drawl as thick as Daryl's.

She sized him up the same as she had done the others in the room. He seemed upfront; used to being in authority. Former cop by his look, although he hadn't gotten the memo about the "former" part yet. She frowned. Folks like that were a wildcard.

' _But so are you, baby. So are all of us.'_

Michonne hesitated a few moments more, feeling the tension rise as the seconds passed, and then approached the side of the bed that had the map spread out. She looked it over to orient herself and pointed to an unmarked area. "I came from here. Over this terrain and then across the river."

"That's clear across the way." Daryl said. "If she got that far, we gotta rethink how much we spread out."

The man at the window, Shane, shuffled and rubbed his head. "What we need to do is be realistic about her chances out there." Three sets of eyes challenged his opinion and he turned away from the group in irritation.

"You been by the highway at all?" Rick asked.

Michonne shook her head. "I stay away from places like that. Too many dead. And people. I keep to myself in the woods where the corpses have to spread out. If I see signs of folks congregating, I steer clear."

That piqued Rick's interest. "You seen a lot of folk out in these parts?" It made sense that he'd need to be concerned about any threats if his people were going to take to the road again. But Michonne wondered how much intel she should share with these people. Best to tread carefully.

' _Yeah real careful, Michonne. As in don't tell them a damn thing. Take care of yourself first.'_

Ignoring the faint voice, she pointed to a spot on the map about twenty miles or so from their location. "There's some kind of group here. They seem mostly nomadic but they'd set up their space to get comfortable for a while. About thirty men and a handful of women—and the women didn't look too willing. They were also moderately armed from what I could see from afar. I kept my distance."

Rick and Shane exchanged glances. What that meant, Michonne had no idea, nor did she care.

"And here?" She pointed at another spot on the map. "I wouldn't go here. Corpses have been steadily picking up, coming in from this subdivision here," she pointed to a spot near her focal point and then slid her finger over to the side. "And here too. From a bigger suburb. I'll cut across this patch of land when I leave," Michonne indicated. "I haven't seen anyone else around except for you." Daryl nodded, disappointment evident.

She stepped back from the bed and returned to the doorway where she felt less cornered. "Listen, I came to make sure Daryl got back to his people. Extending your hospitality was his idea not mine. I can help you look for this girl if you need it. I know the area and I'm a decent tracker. But I don't want any drama or trouble so if the situation is otherwise, I'll be on my way and we can all go back about our business."

' _Aren't you the sucker? Get out of there, Michonne. You don't belong with these people! You don't owe them anything.'_

Wincing, Michonne, schooled her expression as she noted Rick and Daryl's unspoken exchange.

"We wouldn't turn down the help." The guy named Shane scoffed but otherwise kept his mouth shut. There were probably a few issues brewing between him and the others. "You set up outside? Daryl says you travel with two incapacitated walkers. You're gonna need to keep them away from my people and from Hershel, the man who just left here. He wouldn't appreciate seeing that on his property. But we're happy to share what little we got."

Michonne nodded curtly. "I'm good." Examining Daryl one last time, she turned on her heel and left the room without a goodbye.

Mike was right about one thing: whatever their experiences had been so far, these people were a hot mess.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN: Thanks so much for the reviews and alerts. The feedback is really helpful. It's great to know that you're reading and as interested in the possibilities of this story as I am. I hope you keep it coming, and I'll do my best to keep it interesting.**_

 _ **As always, I fit these little updates in between my insane work schedule and working on my other longer-form stories. So I'll post as much as I can squeeze in throughout the holidays. Thanks again for reading.**_

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Daryl was bored out of his mind. Everyone else was probably happy to be cozying up in the dining room having a nice civilized dinner like hadn't a damned thing changed in the world. To him, recovering in a sick bed in the old man's house was more like a cage to him. He was much more comfortable being outside in the open instead of stuck inside surrounded by four solid walls and a houseful of people.

It was probably for the best, though. He felt like shit—his head was pounding and his side ached. His leg was gonna be sore for days probably. That meant another day or two he couldn't be out looking for Sophia.

Carol had come by with food and although he'd never admit to it, she'd made him feel better, like all this searching and caring was worth it. When he'd hallucinated Merle, all the things he'd said had been the same bullshit he'd grown up listening to about how he wasn't shit and nobody would ever give a damn about him. But Carol gave a damn about him and the people around him at least pretended to appreciate him and given him something useful to do. He'd take that over fighting with Merle and his father every damn day.

If he couldn't be out there, at least he'd given them another set of legs to cover some ground. It was strange because he didn't know shit about that strange woman with her sword and her dead buddies chained to her. But what he did recognize was a stone-cold survivor and he could respect that. She'd helped him, got him back his horse and led him to his group. She'd offered to step in when even people in their own circle were ready to give up.

And he'd been serious about repaying the kindness. Before she left his room, Carol said the woman hadn't joined them inside for dinner, but she had taken a portion out to the porch and offered to hold watch. Carol guessed she was just too uncomfortable being around people again. She was communicative and assertive enough, but only just enough. Certainly nobody would call her sociable.

Daryl wondered how long she'd been out there alone, dragging around two dead walkers and cutting shit down with that katana of hers.

Movement at the door caught his attention. He almost groaned thinking about what busybody was looking to check in on him now. Carol wasn't so bad, but he wasn't in the mood to hear no excuses from Andrea or fussing from Lori. And he sure as hell wasn't interested in getting in the middle of whatever was going on with Dale, Shane, or Rick.

However, standing at the entryway with her hands behind her back was the woman who had just occupied his recent thoughts and curiosity. Michonne. She took two steps in and looked him over. He had thankfully covered himself up after Carol had left the room.

"Still in one piece, I see."

He scoffed at her. "Could say the same thing 'bout you." She shrugged as if to say, 'I'm here aren't I?'

"I do wonder," she began and then paused as if reconsidering whether to continue. He stared blankly back. Wasn't no skin off his back whether she shared what was on her mind or didn't. She cocked her head to the side. "You stage your little accident? Nobody's having a good time in there," she indicated down the hall towards the dinner party now breaking up.

He stifled a chuckle, knowing it'd hurt his stitched up side. He felt like crap but at least he got to do so without sitting through whatever bullshit drama was going on out there. "Yeah, a damn walker tea party'd be less awkward than that shit show. Carol said you passed."

"Carol. Your friend with the short hair? The one whose daughter is lost? She fixed me a plate and I ate it out on the porch."

"Yeah, she's good people." They both remained silent as Michonne moved to the window.

"What's the story with those people? I see a roof overhead, food on the table. What's there to be so tense about besides the usual?"

Daryl leaned back on his arm and shoved his covers in place. "Hell, what isn't the story out there? None of it is my business so I try to keep out of it."

"Smart." She circled back around to the doorway. "Thanks for the meal. It wasn't necessary, but it was a very nice gesture." It looked as if she liked being stuck indoors about as much as him.

He turned away from her, embarrassed by the attention. "I aint no saint, but I wasn't gon' leave things not being square." She nodded.

"Your buddy Rick says you're supposed to take it easy tomorrow. I'll take your place in the search until you're back on your feet." She stepped through the doorway, again without so much as a goodbye. It didn't bother him because he was used to living wild. Getting used to these other people's expectations was the frustrating part. And he hadn't come across anyone who was like that too.

"Hey," he called after her. She reappeared at the door but made no move to enter. "Why you so eager to help us?" For someone who took such obvious pains to avoid people, she sure was being mighty amenable to lending a hand. It didn't set quite right with him, not in a bad way but in a way that assured him that she had a den of secrets to her.

"Not eager. Some things need to get done." She shrugged. "A day's worth of delay won't make much difference in my week."

Fair enough. He nodded and she disappeared out the door again. A minute later, he watched from the window as she made her way out towards the edge of the property, undeterred about making her way through the darkness.

* * *

The heat and the quiet felt good. Relaxing. Or it would be if he could just get himself situated so that none of his injuries were throbbing or pulling wrong or pressing against anything. Daryl winced as he rolled carefully on his pallet trying to avoid his the worst of it. After spending the night in the house, he'd used up all his energy this morning getting back out to his own turf; he didn't want to spend any more straining himself to get comfortable. Finally, finding the right position to rest himself, he surrendered to the enjoyment of being back in his tent instead of that stuffy room in the house.

It was an improvement, but he was once again bored out of his mind. Andrea had come by earlier to apologize for shooting at him and Michonne and gave him some stupid book that he wasn't ever going to read. They were cool, but he mentioned she might want to take her sorrys to Michonne for shooting her walker pack mule. She said she would but that the woman had left early in the morning to look for Sophia.

It looked like she'd kept her word so for.

Daryl spent the rest of the day lightly napping and also organizing his stuff, cleaning his crossbow, and watching the comings and goings of his other group members. Carl was looking pretty good for a kid who'd gotten shot in the gut a few days before. Hell, the kid looked better than he did right now. Lori was her usual high strung self, and Glenn and Maggie were still doing whatever it is they were playing at, although he could tell something had gone down there too.

How did these people have time for so much bullshit when they were sitting out in the middle of nowhere with no plan whatsoever past the next day or two?

After a while, Carol had come to visit and convinced him to sit with the rest of the group if he was up to it. He didn't have anything better to do and he'd used up all his mindless tasks so he'd agreed.

Michonne didn't come back until almost sundown. From his chair by the fire, he saw her in the distance checking on her walkers that she'd left tied up during the day. Carol watched tensely beside him, not really knowing what to make of the woman, but also hopeful that she'd succeeded somehow where the others had come up empty-handed. The quiet woman walked towards the group at a leisurely pace, her katana still looking dangerous and comfortable at her back; she went straight to where Rick and Shane stood and they pulled out a map so she could report what she didn't find by marking off an area on the map.

They discussed something for a few minutes; Rick asked questions, even flashed her a smile at something she said. Shane continued to look her up and down, but at least he'd let up on the hostility. All three came to some sort of agreement, then she nodded and retreated, returning to her camp away from his group. Her expression hadn't changed in response to either man's attitude towards her. Rick glanced back at her for a beat and then went back to studying the map. Shane's eyes followed her with an expression Daryl couldn't suss out, but knew he didn't like.

There wasn't even the hint of attention directed his way from her. Daryl tried not to show his frustration at that as he tracked her movements.

"I guess she didn't find anything." Carol dragged a chair to rest next to him and occupied herself with some sewing. A tightness pulled at his chest at her controlled, almost bitter words. Not letting her down was starting to matter a little too much.

Daryl picked up his knife for the millionth time and twirled it. "Might 'a narrowed it down, though. S'only a matter 'a time. We just gotta, I don't know, think positive thoughts or some shit like that." She attempted a smile, but it fell flat.

It was hard not to look behind him and see what Michonne was doing out there by herself. She hadn't returned to make use of the fire or provisions and since the sun was about to completely disappear, he didn't think she'd be going for any water. If he wanted to get some first hand information, it was now or never.

"I'll go find out what's what."

He stood up stiffly, side still aching from Hershel's mending, and hobbled in Michonne's direction. Sure he could have just asked his own people, but he didn't feel like dealing with them. There wasn't anything going on in the camp anyway but the usual dumb tension. The only new factor was that Andrea and Shane had come back from their search acting shady. If they wanted to hide the fact that they'd probably been out hooking up, they were doing a terrible job of it. Glenn and Dale were still being squirrely, too but there was no telling what was going on with there. Whatever it was, Daryl wasn't terribly interested in being involved in that either.

Michonne had spotted him from a distance, of course, but she continued to sort through some of her supplies as he approached. She had some tall spikes in her hand and he wasn't sure what she meant to do with them. He'd probably find out if he stuck around long enough. If he could manage not to look like a creep, maybe she wouldn't notice him lingering.

Who the hell was he kidding? Probably not a lot got by her. You don't survive this long by letting shit like that get you.

The two walkers shuffled some and then quieted down when he stilled and stood a few feet from where Michonne was working. "No luck, huh?"

Michonne kneeled on the ground and looked up at him, hands still deep in the backpack she'd taken from one of the walkers. Glancing up at him for a moment, she shook her head and then went back to her business. "No recent signs. Tracks that were days old. Might have been your group or someone else. But nothing from one, small person." From the bag, she was pulling out a worn coil of wire and a bundle of some sort.

"You taking off tomorrow?" He figured he knew the answer, but he wanted to prepare himself for it anyway. Even though they hadn't spent a lot of time together, he was rather curious about her, wanted to know how she'd survived this long on her own. And he still felt a little indebted to her for lending him a hand the day before.

She didn't exactly smile at him but he swore her stoic expression softened somewhat. "I told that guy Rick that I'd go with him and the blonde tomorrow to check out another area. I did say I'd lend another set of eyes until you could rejoin them."

"Well, I might go out for a bit tomorrow anyway so don't go out of your way or nothin'."

As soon as he said it, he realized how wrong it might have sounded. Ungrateful. She paused and raised an eyebrow at that.

There was an excitement that she was staying longer. Appreciation probably. It's not like Daryl was great at sorting out his thoughts on women; he didn't really know what to do with these new urges when it came to her, and he wasn't the best at talking it out. So he pushed it all down.

Daryl cleared his throat. "I mean, not that I—we—don't want your help. I mean, you can stay as long as ya like." He was really fucking this up. "Just don't want you goin' outta your way on my account. I don't like sittin' around bein' useless."

"I get that." Michonne took her hands out of the bag and rested them beside her. "You'll aggravate your injuries by moving around too soon. It'll end up being more trouble than it's worth."

Daryl frowned, almost spitting out that she wasn't the boss of him. Before he could respond sharply, he thought better of it. He took a deep breath to calm his short nerves. Instead he tried thinking of something, anything, that would keep him from looking like an ass.

"It's alright to sit with us by the fire if you need to. We don't bite or nothin'." He noticed a small smile on her face as she returned to her bag.

"That's good to know. I'm okay out here."

He shuffled from one foot to the other. "You eat?" The offer was implicit, unspoken.

"On my way back. Gonna set up for the night and turn in." She stood up with her spikes and wire and a few other tools and walked a few paces before fiddling with something in the ground. Instead of retreating back to the others, he stood and watched her. He was a little curious what kind of set up she was preparing.

"You aint got no tent or nothin'?"

She still had her back to him and didn't bother facing him to respond. "I have one, but I prefer to sleep up high or in the open." She raised herself up and moved some distance to her right before kneeling down again. From what he could tell, she was rigging some kind of perimeter, probably around the area where she'd be sleeping. It wasn't a bad plan at all, not that he was about to tell her that. She probably didn't give a shit what he thought anyway.

"You run into a lot of trouble since you been out there?"

She raised herself up after jamming something into the ground again. "Trouble's always going to find you these days. I've seen my share."

Daryl nodded, noting that he now had a profile view of her. She was lean but you could see her strength in the way she squatted steadily to the ground and beat in the stakes, straightening up with little effort. She wasn't his type at all, but he thought her pretty even if she was as dusty and bedraggled as his group. He wished he had more light to notice a few more details that he'd ignored before due to fighting off the pain of his injuries.

He could now see more clearly her strategy of rigging a detection system around her that would alert her to walkers; her two buddies probably did a good job of letting her know when humans were around.

"Not a bad system you got here. Gonna have to remember it." Michonne glanced at him, probably not sure what to make of his lingering and rambling in front of her.

"Y'all aren't staying here?" It was probably the first hint of curiosity he'd gotten from her. Mostly their interactions indicated that she didn't care about what they were doing out here on this farm one way or another.

"Aint no telling what's gon' happen with us," he mumbled. "I'm sure some folks wouldn't mind stickin' around, but I don't think the guy who owns this property is gonna be okay with that. Either way, I'm not gettin' attached." She didn't respond but just moved to another corner of her perimeter, him on the outside as she connected all her stakes to each other with the wire.

"Anyway, just thought I'd see if you had any news I could take back to Carol about Sophia. I feel like she's gettin' real down with us not findin' nothin'." Michonne paused and nodded. There was a tension to her that confused him. He wondered if he was getting on her nerves. He pivoted stiffly to return back to his camp.

Ignoring the movement behind him, he wondered what he should report to Carol. A hand on his arm, stopped him cold. Michonne. Damn she was quick. And silent as hell.

"Tell her there's tomorrow. If any of us are still looking at a tomorrow, there's a chance her little girl is too." She dropped her hand resting against his bare skin and returned to her safety zone. It felt warm where she'd touched him. Despite everything about her that screamed detachment and distance, he'd welcomed that connection instinctively.

Michonne's words only stirred more questions and curiosity in him about what she'd seen and who she was. He wanted to stay and ask them but the words wouldn't form and then the moment passed. With the moonrise, she'd continued to create her temporary camp with practiced hands and a routine probably borne of many nights wondering if her efforts were enough to keep her alive for another day and night.

Daryl left her to her own counsel.

TBC...


End file.
